


While Our Hearts in Love We Raise

by Meowcenary



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Found Family, Holidays, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, New Years, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowcenary/pseuds/Meowcenary
Summary: Some tooth-rotting holiday fluff in which you will find a heartwarming handmade gift exchange, ineffable husbands stopping by the nail salon before a lunch date, cooking mishaps, and time spent with found family.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	While Our Hearts in Love We Raise

**11:13 AM - December 25, 2019**

Aziraphale was in the kitchen making himself a snack of cheese and olives when he heard the familiar nervous hissing of a certain demonic entity behind him. He turned around, thumb lifted to his lips as he licked the olive brine from his fingers.

“Oh! Hello, dear,” he smiled.

Crowley’s eyes bulged and then began to dart around the room. “Uh, hiya Angel.” He was shuffling his feet and his hands were clasped behind him.

“How are you, dear?” Aziraphale crossed the floor to meet him.

When Crowley began to speak, the words rolled out in a frantic ramble, “I know it's not _really_ his birthday...and a demon observing Christmas, that’s just,” he scoffed and looked at the floor, “I mean it's not like...like even if he wanted to forgi---”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Crowley stopped and looked up from the floor. The angel’s eyes were warm and they crinkled as he smiled softly, "I have a gift for you too, dear. Let me fetch it."

Aziraphale hurried out of the room and Crowley caught his breath. His heart was fluttering for an entirely different reason now. He hadn't expected anything from Aziraphale.

As soon as he had gone Aziraphale returned with a small, rectangular package and offered it for Crowley to take.

“Ah, well, a--” Crowley shifted his weight before presenting Aziraphale with the gold and red gift bag that had been hiding behind his back. He was still nervous despite Aziraphale’s apparent calm.

Aziraphale grinned and nodded toward the kitchen table. The pair took a seat before swapping presents.

“Open it,” Aziraphale waved a hand toward Crowley, a bit of his anxiety finally creeping out from the cracks in his smile.

“Err, ok, yeah, thank you.” No one had ever actually given the demon a holiday present before and he wasn’t exactly sure how to act. He followed the protocol laid out in movies. Carefully, he removed the silver and blue ribbons and lifted the lid off the box. He gasped and looked up at Aziraphale whose eyes were just about burning holes in him.

“...Angel?”

“It’s ok if you don’t like it. I thought maybe, well, it’s for the Bentley, you see. But I know...not really your style and I--” Crowley cut him off.

“Shut up, Angel. It’s _perfect_.” He lifted a silver thread from the box. Attached were three feathers from Aziraphale’s wing. Blue and silver glass beads decorated the string. The feathers glimmered in the light and almost seemed to produce their own luminescence. Crowley suddenly felt a lump in his throat that he tried to swallow down but it only got sharper.

“Angel…” Crowley’s voice shook.

“They will...well, I know I pester you about your driving and I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” his eyes were full of worry and love, “but I think about you when you’re out there. So I thought, well, they will keep you safe and, uh,” his cheeks flushed, “um..”

The lump in Crowley’s throat grew and he was aware of tears welling in his eyes. He blinked. “You’ll be with me,” his voice cracked.

“Yes, dear. Exactly.” Aziraphale’s worried expression softened.

Crowley grabbed his hand and squeezed, “thank you, angel.” This time he wasn’t reciting movie lines. His human heart was pounding. He could feel the love that came from the feathers pulsing in his palm. “Open yours. Please.”

Aziraphale scattered the gold tissue paper across the table with a giddy smile and Crowley suppressed an eye roll at his characteristic messiness. From the bag, he removed a wooden hoop encircling a piece of beige fabric. Embroidered on the fabric in gold thread were three words, in an ornate script: _To the World_. Aziraphale’s glossy eyes flitted up to meet Crowley’s.

He had given Aziraphale his works before. Often, he came home from his embroidery circle giggling before presenting his latest cheeky craft. Some of his favorites included _We’re here to lick some serious butt!_ , _Grow BETTER!_ , and _Just Enough of a Bastard_. The last one he had embellished with small hearts the ladies in his group taught him that night. But Aziraphale could tell this one was different. He could feel the warmth, dedication, and intention in every stitch. He could sense the frustration Crowley had felt when handling the fussy metallic thread along with the determination to make it perfect. It was radiating love.

Aziraphale looked up, his palms buzzing, Crowley’s love held fast in his hands as though he had taken his beating heart and presented it on a platter. “Thank you, dear. Thank you.” He brought Crowley in for a kiss and held him close to his chest. Crowley folded himself into Aziraphale’s embrace. His anxiety had faded the minute Azirapahle met his eyes. They didn’t need words, they could each feel the love pouring from the other.

**12:37 AM - December 27, 2019**

Aziraphale reached the last sentence of his book and folded it closed on his lap. He let out a contented sigh before realising he hadn't heard from Crowley in a few hours. He looked at the grandfather clock and realized he must be asleep, it was well after midnight. Just then, however, he heard a disgruntled noise coming from the room next to the library.

"Augh!!" Crowley threw his arms up in surrender.

Just then Aziraphale walked in, a worried look on his face. He found Crowley hunched over in his chair, knees pulled up to his chest. The room was dark and his face, twisted in frustration, was lit only by the glow of his computer screen.

"Ah, is everything alright, dear?"

Crowley jumped, not noticing the angel had padded into the room in the middle of his fit.

"Oh, ah, y-yeah. No worries here" He didn't sound convincing.

Aziraphale peered over his shoulder to see what he was working, or attempting to work on. He had a pad of paper in front of him, plotting out a menu of hors d'oeuvres for their new year’s eve party. Aziraphale's heart fluttered. On his screen, however, was a much less charming scene: the clutter of a pinterest page, the topic of "holiday party planning," was pulled up. By the size and position of the scroll bar, it was clear Crowley had been at this for quite some time. Aziraphale chuckled.

"Thwarted by your own invention, darling?" His grin was fond and taunting at once.

Crowley rolled his eyes, " _Angelllll_."

Aziraphale approached him and Crowley reached out, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his head against Aziraphale's soft, sweater-clad belly. His eyes were red from straining at the screen and he had a headache. He took in a deep breath and the tension in his body melted at the warmth of his angel. It was clear he needed sleep.

"Come to bed, dear. We can work on this in the morning."

Crowley acquiesced without much of a fight. Aziraphale lifted him to his feet and made a mental note to call his favorite café to order a few trays of canapés, just in case.

**3:30 PM - December 28, 2019**

Aziraphale stood in his office, rifling through his rolodex. The sun was already setting though it wasn’t yet evening. Soft streams of light from the window illuminated specks of dust floating in the room.

“Ah, here,” he muttered to himself with a grin. He pulled a card free from its spot and picked up the telephone receiver to nestle between ear and shoulder. He only had to wait for the line to ring once before a familiar voice boomed from the ear piece.

“Maurice! Yes, Yes, it’s Mr. Fell. -- I know it’s a bit last minute,” he starts hesitantly, “but, well, you see, my husband has decided to cook for our new year’s eve party -- yes! Yes, exactly. You remember last time!” he chuckled openly into the receiver. “I’ll just need a few trays of those lovely little canapés you do. Just, just in case -- Oh, thank you! -- Many blessings to you in the new year, friend! -- Oh, thank you! -- Yes, I’ll tell him you send your regards.”

The receiver is set back into its cradle with a satisfying clack and Aziraphale strides towards the kitchen for a well-deserved snack after a task well done.

**3:15 PM - December 30, 2019**

Aziraphale twirled a bottle of sheer mauve nail polish between his fingers.

“C’mon sweetheart, just this once?” Crowley was standing in front of the nail polish wall holding three bottles and trying his best temptation routine: _use the big eyes and the pet names, tilt your head just right, furrow the brow just a bit, smile._

“I like this one, Crowley. It’s what I always get.” Aziraphale pushed back his shoulders in a playful defiance.

“That’s….that’s what I’m _saying_ angel. Mix it up! Have some fun!”

“I am having fun, dear. We’ve had a lovely day so far,” he grinned, the bastard. “Though, I’m sure one of those will look beautiful on you, my love.”

Crowley groaned in feigned annoyance. He held up a bottle of silver glitter nail polish. “This one! Look, it’s not too flashy. I mean it’s not green or yellow or anything. For our party?” His eyes were soft, fond, emploring.

Aziraphale looked at the silver flecks floating in the bottle in Crowley’s palm, “A bit too celestial I think, dear. This one is just _me_ ” he nodded to the bottle in his hand and gave a slight shrug.

“I think this one is _you_.” Crowley picked a bottle off the wall and held it up towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale turned to Crowley to see the effort on his face. He really was determined to make this temptation a success. The angel smiled fondly. He had always been weak for his serpent’s temptations.

He looked down to Crowley’s hand where he was holding a small glass orb filled with a shimmering sky blue polish.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. It _was_ beautiful but he was still unsure. He had never much strayed from his usual nude tones, Still, he couldn’t stop looking at the way the polish glinted in the sunlight that streamed through the storefront window.

“Oh,” he started.

Crowley was encouraged by this and stepped closer. “C’mon angel, it comes off. If you don’t like it you can take it off after the party. It’ll be a new year, fresh start and all that.”

Aziraphale reached for the bottle. “Well, well yes I suppose you’re right. Alright, you won this time.” He gave Crowley a knowing look that was equal parts annoyance, surrender, and love. “What will you be getting?”

Crowley flashed a fanged grin and held up his selection. His eyes widened, “rainbow glitter!”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Of course, dear.”

\----

By miraculous chance, there had been a cancellation at the salon and two stations opened up right beside each other. The pair took their respective seats and began soaking their fingertips in bowls of warm water. Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders in delight as he sank his fingers into the water. Crowley smiled at the sound of his pocket watch tinkling against its chain.

Aziraphale turned to him, catching a glimpse of his adoring smile.

Crowley diverted, “Maybe we could do a dinner party? Rather than just hors d'oeuvres? What do you think, angel?”

Aziraphale pouted, “What’s wrong with hors d'oeuvres? I like hors d'oeuvres!” His lower lip stuck out dramatically.

“You’re just hungry, angel. I’m taking you to lunch after this, remember? Focus.”

“Oh, fine. Yes, I think our guests would like that. Never managed to tame the beast that is Pinterest?”

Crowley just blushed and asked, “Who exactly are we inviting again?”

“Oh, well, Anathema and Newt have already RSVP’d, via the post of course.”

“‘Course,” Crowley agreed. No use in sending Newt an email unless you want to bring Tadfield’s entire power grid down.

“Madame Tracy rang and told me that Shadwell was refusing to dine with a witch, occultist or otherwise, but assured me she would bring him one way or another.”

“Oh good, he’s always the life of the party,” Crowley groaned.

“Do be kind, Crowley!” Aziraphale scolded.

“Sorry, sorry,” he relented.

Aziraphale kept on, “I invited the book club but I understand most of them have plans and the Youngs are watching the Them for the evening so they won’t be able to come either. Uh, didn’t invite the Dowlings. I think Warlock and Mrs. Dowling went to the ‘States for the holidays and besides, it would have been too difficult to explain what exactly happened to Nanny and the gardener. Maybe we can pay them a visit in the new year, though. We didn’t get to give young Warlock his present yet.”

Crowley grinned, “Yes, I’d like that. Always up for an opportunity to bust out the Louboutins, you know.” _Aziraphale did know._ He also knew Crowley missed Warlock more than he would ever admit. Why else had he spent four hours in Harrods selecting the perfect gift.

“I still can’t believe you bought him that,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“What? The Millennium Falcon Lego set? It was the biggest one they had!”

“Exactly! He’s just going to dump out all the little pieces in the carpet so his poor mother walks right over them in the middle of the night! You know how awful that is.” Aziraphale grimaced.

Crowley flashed a grin.

“No. No, Crowley tell me that’s not why you spent over five hundred pounds on that thing!” Aziraphale chastised.

Crowley was openly laughing, “Lighten up a little angel. And what’s money to you anyways?” He was deflecting.

“It’s the principle!” Aziraphale would have crossed his arms if a nail artist didn’t have his fingers clasped in her impressively strong grip.

Crowley scoffed, “Oh alright dear, play high and mighty but we both know I’m not the only one who taught that boy his tricks.” Crowley nudged Aziraphale’s foot with his own to indicate he was only teasing. “I invited Kenzie and Becca from my cross stitch circle. They said they’re coming so that’s what, six guests for sure, a couple ‘maybes’ from the book club? Plus us, that’ll be a decent turn-out for a dinner party, yeah?”

Aziraphale was watching his manicurist attempt to trim already impeccable cuticles with some level of baffled frustration. “Yes, dear. Sounds perfect.” He looked up to smile toward Crowley. He might chastise the demon openly but they both knew he found Crowley’s everyday wiles unbearably charming. And Crowley was right, even Gardener had encouraged Warlock to lead his father face-first into his fair share of spiderwebs.

**5:12 PM - December 31, 2019**

Aziraphale walked into the small kitchen to find it full of smoke, Crowley’s yellow eyes peering through the clouds in frustration.

The angel chuckled, “what’s happened here, darling?”

Crowley only grumbled and turned toward the oven.

Aziraphale sniffed the air. There was a familiar, acrid scent to the smoke. He walked to the window and pushed it open. “Is that hellfire, Crowley?”

“Mayyyybe,” the demon grimaced.

“Whyever!-”

“I was trying to get the perfect sear on the roast!” Crowley blushed.

Aziraphale nearly lost his balance as he began to laugh. Crowley's face twisted in embarrassment and anger. “I’m sorry dear, it’s just,” he caught his breath, “a little heavy handed, don’t you think?” His eyes were soft even if his words were taunting.

Crowley made a series of sounds, mostly consonants strung together with regret and acquiesce.

“Oh, it’s alright dear,” Aziraphale comforted.

“It’s ruined! The roast and the vegetables and I won’t be able to use the oven for the puddings until it airs out and---”

Aziraphale was glad he ordered the trays of canapés. He leaned over to open the refrigerator, stacked full of trays. “I thought we might need these.”

Crowley stepped back. He looked relieved, then offended, and finally settled back to relieved. “I really should let you handle the food from now on, huh?” He was feeling foolish and wanted to apologize to the angel.

“Don’t be silly, Crowley. You’re a wonderful cook and you know I love your food. You might have gotten a bit carried away today, is all.” Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the demon's shoulders. “Go get ready and I’ll clean up in here, ok?”

“Yeah, alright.” Crowley mumbled the words but he nestled into Aziraphale’s arms, comforting and strong. Almost all of his embarrassment faded under the angel’s patient and forgiving embrace.

Aziraphale pulled back, “But, dear, please no more hellfire in the house, alright?”

\----

Newt and Anathema were the first guests to arrive. Newt stepped back to let Anathema ring the doorbell, worried that even such a simple system could be ruined under her touch. Aziraphale opened the door with a warm smile.

"Welcome, welcome! Come in you two, the weather is frightful out there." He accepted Anathema's platter of almond biscuits and set them on the dessert table.

Crowley walked in from the back room, now showered and dressed. "That's a nice dress, Newt. Suits you!"

Newt blushed and her eyes flitted to her shoes before saying, "thank you, Crowley. It's new," with a smile.

Becca and Kenzie walked in behind them and when Becca introduced her partner as Ken, Crowley took the cue, "Angel, this is Ken and his partner, Becca. From my cross stitch group."

Aziraphale nearly glowed. "I've heard so much about you both!" He reached his hand out to shake Becca's but pulled her into a hug at the last minute. He pulled back quickly, "Oh, I'm sorry dear! I should have asked, I let my affections get the best of me. I just know how important you've been to Crowley and--"

"No worries, Aziraphale, I'm the hugger. Just watch out for Ken, he might bite you," she huffed a laugh.

Aziraphale laughed, "noted. You two make yourselves at home, alright? Crowley's pouring the wine right now."

Aziraphale continued to welcome their guests as Crowley fussed with the trays of food and faltered over which bottle of wine to open first.

Tracy arrived dragging Shadwell behind her. Somehow, despite the fact it was only drizzling, his duster managed to get soaked during his walk from the car and he dripped onto the welcome mat. Tracy handed Aziraphale a charmingly appalling aspic. He thanked her, gracious as always, suppressing the wave of nausea that came over him.

Once the final few guests had arrived and all had settled in, chatting and eating near the fire, Aziraphale went to find Crowley in the kitchen.

He was cutting oranges for the mulled wine as Aziraphale wound his arms around his husband's waist. He buried his nose in Crowley's neck and spoke into him. "I love you, dear. Our guests are here, do you want to come join us?"

Crowley placed a hand on top of Aziraphale's before turning to face him. Aziraphale kept his arms wrapped around Crowley. "Do you think they're having fun, angel?" A look of anxiety crossed his face.

"I know they are, dear. Come with me." He led Crowley by the hand into their sitting room. Their friends were all chatting and laughing. Crowley's heart swelled. It was a new experience that came with all sorts of new feelings. He had never had friends other than Aziraphale and now his home was full of people who enjoyed him, who cared about him. Even Shadwell couldn't hide his fondness for the wily one all the time.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, hesitant. "Is it real, angel? Did we really do it? Are we here?"

Azirapahle cupped his cheek. "Yes, Crowley. It's real. We'll get used to it in time, but it's real," he comforted.

The pair turned toward their friends to find all eyes on them. Anathema and Madame Tracy had their hands clutched to their chests with sappy expressions pasted on their faces.

An hour later, when the clock struck midnight, Crowley tilted Aziraphale’s chin up softly and pressed their lips together.

Aziraphale felt a tear fall onto his cheek and pulled back, “What is it, dear?” Concern welled in his eyes,

”’s nothing. Such a human thing. Doesn’t even matter."

Aziraphale realized the sentiment. They had spent plenty of new year’s _not_ kissing, avoiding each other’s eyes, brushing fingertips in a crowd. Yet they had never kissed on the minute.

”It’s a human tradition, yes. And that’s precisely why it matters.” He leaned in close to Crowley’s ear and whispered, “To the world, darling. This world, the human world. Our world.” He moved to kiss Crowley’s jaw and Crowley cupped his cheeks, pulling him into another kiss, chest hiccuping.

"It’s real, dear. It’s real and we’re here.” Aziraphale’s eyes glistened with tears now.

Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel’s shoulders and kept him there for several minutes before pulling away and whispering a returned, “to the world.”

**8:37 AM - January 1, 2020**

Nanny Asthoreth stepped out onto the pavement balancing a large wrapped parcel on her hip. The morning air was brisk and a soft mist of rain peppered her cheeks.

“Francis! We’ll be late!” She shouted into the bookshop, tapping her foot with impatience. _Punctuality is a virtue all must learn._

Brother Francis bumbled out onto the bookshop steps, fumbling with his keys.

“Sorry, sorry dear!” he lisped.

Nanny couldn’t stay angry with the angel. His quirks quickly melted all the iciness frustration had left in her chest.

Her irritated posture softened and she smiled, “Ready, Brother?”

A nod in response and they set off for the Dowling residence.

\----

“Nanny! Brother Francis!” Warlock ran from the front steps and met them outside, tackling them both in a hug.

The moment they were inside Warlock tore open his gift, leaving scraps of festive paper and ribbon strewn carelessly over the floor.

“Nanny! Nanny! Look! It’s the Millennium Falcon! It’s just the one I wanted!” he beamed.

If Nanny shed a tear from the fondness and gratitude welling in her chest, she wouldn’t admit to it. And if Brother Francis openly sobbed into his embroidered handkerchief, well, it was to be expected. They were back where it all started to take shape. They were watching their godson revel in the joy that can only be found in a child at Christmas. They were in the first home they had made together, however restricted. It was the first day of their first year as free entities. They had the rest of eternity (or close enough to it) ahead of them and they were surrounded by family.

Warlock was occupied with sorting the plastic pieces in little piles when Harriet left the room to fetch a tin of biscuits. Nanny took the opportunity to pull Francis into the drawing room and peppered his brow with kisses before taking him in a warm embrace. She pressed their foreheads together.

“I’m not kissing you with those absurd teeth in,” she sneered in jest. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck.

Brother Francis sprung forward, taking her in a kiss despite her halfhearted protests. She broke free and giggled into his shoulder.

A shuffle came from the doorway, then, “I _knew_ it!” Warlock was elated, his smile stretched from one ear to the other. He ran toward them, wedging himself between the pair. He buried his nose in Brother Francis’s chest, wrapping his arms around his middle.

“I always knew you two were perfect for each other. Just made sense. Always made sense.” His words had a childlike honesty to them that they both could feel.

Nanny squeezed the disguised angel’s hand and nodded. His eyes met hers over the boy’s head and they glinted in agreement, _It just makes sense._


End file.
